Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

was gone.

“It was here when we finished the summer bottling,” David said, his voice direct and short.

I reached out, my left thumb automatically rubbing the side of my hand to ease the quiet throb in my joint. The heavy brass instrument had been bolted to that tank since my late husband built the bottling line thirty years ago.

“We cannot monitor the continue reading …